Within A Dark Forest
by Vii Zee
Summary: Eight years ago, Brittany died. And now, Santana has found a way to get her back. She must travel through the deepest levels of Hell, and fight to get back the love that was so unjustly taken from her. Based on Dante Alighieri's 'Inferno'
1. The Door to Hell

_Through me you go to the grief wracked city; Through me you go to everlasting pain; Through me you go a pass among lost souls. Justice inspired my exalted Creator: I am a creature of the Holiest Power, of Wisdom in the Highest and of Primal Love. Nothing till I was made was made, only eternal beings. And I endure eternally. Abandon all hope — Ye Who Enter Here_

"Inferno: Canto III: The Gate to Hell" – Dante Alighieri

She cracked her fingers and stared at the door to the casino. Around her, drunks milled around, people dressed in fancy suits laughed at some snob-ass joke, and security guards stood on the side, making sure everything stayed in order.

And here she was…Twenty-five years old and not even able to enjoy the beauty of Las Vegas.

The flashing lights couldn't beckon her, the music crawling out of strip clubs couldn't even entice her to look. All she knew was that this casino was, right now, the most important thing in the world.

She braced herself and stepped inside, putting on her game face.

_Game on._

The lights inside were bright, almost blinding. She suddenly felt underdressed as she watched everyone around her walk around in hip-hugging dresses, nine-inch heels and black tailor-made tuxedos. She looked down at her outfit. A pair of red jeans and black Converse, a black trench coat, a canvas bag on her shoulders, a black bandana tied securely around her neck bandito-style, and an ash grey shirt. That was all she had going for her.

She looked at the security guard and rolled her eyes at him. She wasn't doing anything wrong. He waved her along and she nodded, feeling her hair sweep around her head. She felt self-conscious, as if there was some sort of sign above her head that said 'DESPERATE'.

She swiveled through the people, looking into each and every one of their faces. Handsome men, pretty young women, nicely dressed spinsters, pervy old drunks, they were all there.

And then she saw him.

Standing at the head of the blackjack table, grinning madly, stood a black-haired man of about thirty, although she knew that that was nowhere near his real age. He was dressed in a beautiful black suit she would have fawned over before, and rocked the unshaven look.

She sidled next to him and pulled on the fabric on his elbow. He turned to her, a smile adorning her face, before he caught her eyes.

She saw his eyes suddenly turn from blue to red to black and then back to blue in a matter of a second, and he frowned. She knew what he was doing. She knew everything about him.

"Charon."

"Shush!" he almost yelled, putting a hand over her mouth. She grinned underneath it. He was sweating. He was scared.

This was good.

"What do you want?" he asked her, removing his hand and leading her away from the table. Shouts of protest followed him, he didn't seem to care. "How did you find me?"

"Las Vegas is the most sinful place on earth."

He gave her one quick look before he turned his eyes back to the street as he led her away and into a small empty side street.

"Who are you?"

"I believe you already know that," she shrugged, leaning against the wall. Everything in this place was so fucking clean, she couldn't even…

"Right, right," he murmured, pulling at his collar, opening a button and showing off his chest. "Santana Lopez, twenty five, lesbian, I got all that. What else is there, though? Why'd you find me?"

"_You can't be serious, Lopez."_

"_It worked for Dante, Puck. It can work for me."_

"_It never happened!"_

"_That's what you think…"_

"Dante."

Charon stopped fidgeting with his clothes and stared at her, his eyes growing wider by the second.

"Dante?"

"Yes. You see…" she pushed off the wall and walked towards him, watching his body as it stiffened. He was scared of her. This was new. Why would the Ferryman to the Underworld be scared of her? "I lost my Beatrice about 8 years ago. She was everything to me, just like Beatrice was everything to Dante. She was my life, my soul, my lover. And then somebody killed her. Sure, it was an accident. But she died. And I took to reading. A lot. And what I found out was that Dante travelled to hell once. And it was all to get his Beatrice back." She pushed her bag off her back and reached down to it. "I have the book with me, it's all I've been reading. And I knew that I had to look for you, and you'd take me to the doors of hell. But for a price."

Charon narrowed his eyes, crossing her arms over his chest.

"You've done your research, mortal."

"I wanted to be prepared. Only problem is, I can't find any drachmas, seeing as I'm not exactly dead. But I do know that you'll take other forms of payment. So," she spread her arms and smiled her shit-eating smirk at him. "What's it gonna be, Mr Ferryman?"

He didn't answer, just stared at her for what felt like an eternity of hours that danced by. She gulped as she lowered her tiring arms and slung her bag over her shoulder. He was tapping his foot, expecting more.

"Look," she began again, "I know I'm coming on strong but…"

"_She's what?"_

"_Mrs Lopez, calm down-"_

"_She's not dead!" she cried out, falling into Quinn's arms, gulping back air, feeling her chest collapse. "She can't be dead, she just can't…"_

"_Mrs Lopez, I'm so sorry."_

"_Who did it? What happened? How? Why her? Why not me?"_

"But I need her back in my life. I miss her so much. And I know, OK? I know what's coming at me down there. I know that there are nine levels, that if I don't survive I'm stuck there forever. But…I can't live my life knowing I could have had a chance to get her back and I was too much of a coward to go for it! I love her, please let me…just…"

Charon reached out to her, his hands looking suspiciously like skeleton's hands.

"Blood."

"Excuse-"

"You have to pay me with blood."

"How?"

"I don't know. Get your period or something, I don't give a fuck!" He growled, his voice suddenly transforming into something similar to dead leaves racking across a cold pavement. "But I need your blood or you can't get through."

She nodded and brought her hand up to her mouth, giving him a sly wink as she bit into the pad of skin between her thumb and index finger.

"_Santana, what are you doing?"_

"_I heard that if you bite hard enough," she said through muffled bites, "you can draw blood from here-Ow!" she cried out as a piece of skin fell off in her mouth, revealing a dark red, gradually growing patch on her palm._

"_Shit."_

"_You asked for it, silly!" Brittany smiled, leaning forward and bringing the hand to her lips, kissing it. "You'll be fine."_

"_But it hurts, Britt…"_

"_You won't die!"_

"Shit!" she cried out as her mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood. She spat it out and held her hand to Charon, who brushed one long, cold finger against her skin. They both shivered at the contact, and then suddenly a bright red light emitted from the wall behind her.

"Abandon all hope, ye who enter here," he shot at her as he turned around and made to walk away. He stopped at the entrance of the street though, and turned to look at her again.

"Good luck, kid. I hope you find your Beatrice."

Santana nodded at him and turned to the hole. A staircase met her at the entrance, descending into nothing as it twisted down into darkness. She heard what sounded like the slosh of water, and she turned to make a quip about it to Charon, but he was already gone.

"_I can't do this without her, Quinn."  
><em>

"_San, you need to move on."_

"_I love her Quinn, I just can't…"_

"_It's been two years, Santana!"_

_Santana turned her haunted eyes to Quinn and shook her head. "It's been so much longer…"_

Squaring her shoulders, she set foot on the first step.


	2. Limbo

_Thou dost not ask What spirits these, which thou beholdest, are? Now will I have thee know, ere thou go farther, That they sinned not; and if they merit had, 'Tis not enough, because they had not baptism – Inferno, Canto IV, Limbo_

"Charon?"

He rolled his eyes (or lack of) at her and gestured to the boat, his beautiful features replaced with a skeleton, his clothes be a flowing black gown. "I am the ferryman, kid. I have to take you across. Now get in," he tapped the boat with his oar, and she jumped down the last two steps, staring into the black river.

"Is this…?"

"The Styx. Don't touch the water. You know the legends, I presume."

She gulped. "Of course…"

Stepping into the boat, she sat down on the little seat, and stared at him. The skeletal face was hard to look at, she found it unnerving, this lack of features…

"Do we go or what?"

The skull nodded and pushed off the ground, steadily rowing down the river.

"No Virgil, kid?" the voice whispered as the stairs behind her started to steadily disappear into darkness. She shook her head.

"No. I came alone."

"You're brave, coming without a guide."

"Who needs a guide?"

"Dante did."

"I'm not Dante."

She heard what sounded unmistakably like a laugh and turned to look at his back as the oar rowed on. Backward, out, forward, dip, backward, out, forward, dip…

It felt like an eternity later that she heard the first soul-crushing sound of her journey.

Wailing and moaning came with non-existent wind as white orbs started to drift towards her. Curiously, she held her hand out to one as it came dangerously close to her face, and caught it in the palm of her left hand. It started to twist and turn in her hand, like a live crystal ball, and Charon swept at it with his hand.

"The Uncommitted. They like people like you, living souls. They try to latch on to them so they can return to the surface."

"They're…" she whispered breathlessly, catching the orb in her hands again and staring into it, seeing what looked like two large red eyes staring back. "They're so pretty…"

'Don't be fooled," he barked at her, swiping at the orb again, sending it flying into the water. "The Uncommitted are dangerous things. Everything down here is. They're souls who never had an alliance with anyone, not God, not Lucifer, nothing."

"Atheists?"

"You could say that…" he shrugged, and turned to look at her through his sockets. "It's a long ride, kid. Get some sleep. That's what Dante did."

She laughed and crossed her legs. "Dante fainted 'coz he was scared."

Silence fell between the two, the only sound the lapping of the black waters against the boat as it went forward. Charon suddenly stepped off his post and came towards her, his face coming level with hers. She leaned backwards, trying to avoid any contact.

"Aren't you?"

* * *

><p>"<em>There's no reason to be afraid. I'll always be with you. always."<em>

* * *

><p>"<em>She left me! She left me here alone! Why did she leave me? She promised she'd always be around!"<em>

* * *

><p>"<em>Be strong, Santana. Be brave. I'm behind you one hundred percent of the way…"<em>

* * *

><p>When she awoke, she was lying on the ground of some sort of dusty realm. Charon was gone, and so was the boat. The river lapped gently against the ground at her feet, licking at the dirt as it strived to come closer to her. She quickly grabbed her bag and shuffled backwards on her rump, hitting what felt like a rock a few meters back. Satisfied that she was far enough from the water, she sighed and curled her knees up to her chin.<p>

"Hello?"

She looked behind the rock, standing up and putting her bag on her back. There, chained to the ground, where a group of wispy white human figures. They all started at her, confused and wide eyed.

They didn't look dangerous.

"Hi."

"You're…alive."

She smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I am."

"Oh! We've got another Dante here, everyone!" one of them called out, and the whole group broke into wailing laughter. Santana stopped walking towards them and furrowed her brow.

"What?"

"Nothing!" one of them floated towards her, suspended right above her head as he twisted in the air, grinning manically at her. "So, you're here looking for your Beatrice, right?"

"Yeah…"

"How very brave of you. Who is he? Maybe we've met him!" A girl spirit grinned mockingly, floating forward too. Santana reached a hand out and swiped at the air, weaving it through them. Her fingers went numb as they passed through their icy forms, and she winced, deciding to circle around them instead.

"It's a girl."

The ghosts fell quiet, except for one, who gave a very loud cackle and floated towards her too, trapping her, stopping her.

"So you're gay?"

"Yes. I am."

"Back off!" she heard, and she craned her head around the first ghost, surprised.

There, walking towards her, was what looked like an elderly ghost. He was definitely older than the others, with a large black beard covering most of his chest, and a wizened old face. All the other spirits parted before him, moving away to his sides, behind him, and behind Santana, forming a circle around the two.

"So, young one, you are homosexual?"

"Uh…yeah…"

"Are you sure?"

"_No guy makes me feel this way, Britt…I love you…"_

"Very sure."

"And this girl you…love…" she sneered at him, she could practically here the quotation marks he put on the word, "she is dead?"

"For eight years now."

"And you…you are…?"

She inclined her head forward, waiting for more. "Am what?"

"Your religion, child!" it snapped at her, sending the other ghosts into a collective chuckle. "Do you know where you are? Or did you not bother to read the book you are so devotionally following?" He waved his arms around, gesturing at the rocks, the river, the ghosts. "This is Limbo, the place where people who were never baptized go. Good or Evil, no matter what you did in your life, if you were never baptized by the Church, you are stuck here for eternity."

"Which is, as you know," the first ghost she had spoken to piped up, "a very long time!"

He was shushed, and the elderly ghost continued.

"So child, your faith, your religion, your Christian denomination?"

"I'm…uh…"

"_En el nombre del Padre, y del Hijo, y del Espíritu Santo._ _Amén."_

_Brittany raises her eyebrow at her as she crawls into bed next to her, but she doesn't question her, merely hugs her._

"_God hates me for being this way…" Santana whispers into the dark._

"_He doesn't…"_

"Catholic."

"You don't sound too sure!" a random voice called out, and she spun at the general direction, spotting a smirking boy of about twelve.

"At least I have a religion, unbaptized pig!"

The group gave a large 'Oh!' as she spat in the spirit's direction, and she turned back to the old man, who was glaring disapprovingly at her.

"Right. You're Catholic. And yet, you're in love with another girl."

"And?"

"Well, don't you know that God isn't very accepting of your kind?" he asked her, crossing his arms over his wispy chest. "I mean, you are defying the laws of Nature-"

"It's completely natural to feel the way I feel about B!" Santana shouted out, a sob catching in her throat. _Being bested by spirits! What is wrong with you?_

"Really? Do you think God will feel the same way?"

"_Forgive me father, for I have sinned…I fell in love with another woman. She's amazing but…I don't want to feel this way…but…does God still love me?"_

"…"

"_Father?"_

"_Three Hail Marys, my child."_

She gritted her teeth and pushed forward, the ghosts suddenly wailing again. She passed through the elderly man, her whole body numbing at the cold, but she picked herself before she stumbled and continued on, suddenly picking up a run.

Her shoes weren't the most comfortable for running, but they would do.

She ran on, her feet slapping the cold dirt beneath her as she did. Every few seconds another spirit leapt at her, touching her face and enticing a scream from her. Every time, no matter what direction she ran in, she met another one…

"_San! Santana!"_

_She shot up in bed and cried out, her brow covered in sweat, her eyes blinded by it. _

"_Britt! B!" she started to shout out, and she felt arms wrap around her protectively, and she fell into them, crying._

"_It's OK…I got you…"_

Her hands found what felt like two metal rods before her. Looking up, she noticed a low red glow coming from the top of what felt like a sturdy ladder. Looking behind her then, she saw the ghosts, all floating in place, glaring stonily at her as she flipped them off and started to climb the ladder.

She was half way up when suddenly, the first ghost appeared again.

"Listen to me, sweetie," he began, his face millimeters from hers, "try your best, you might just manage. But don't forget…when you die, you will go to Hell. Because nobody, not even the very good and loving people, can ever go to Heaven for being like you. Because God is an asshole."

She swiped at the air and continued on.

"_If God is so loving and so good then why does Santana has to be the one to suffer, huh? If he's so loving then why is she going to Hell?" she heard Brittany scream at Quinn as they had yet another religious argument. She sniffled and Quinn looked at her, her eyes laced with pity._

"_I'm sorry, San, but it's true…"_

"_Fuck you, Q."_

"_Look, I love you both! You're my best friends…but we all know it's true. If there is a Heaven…there's no place for either of you…"_


	3. Lust

_But one point only was it that o'ercame us. When as we read of the much-longed-for smile Being by such a noble lover kissed, This one, who ne'er from me shall be divided, Kissed me upon the mouth all palpitating. – Inferno, Canto V, The Lustful_

When she emerged into the light, all she could see was red, and her eyes hurt as she climbed out of the hole and spotted the door. Steam was slowly floating out and so was music, reaching her ears and immediately triggered her brain, her memory…

_Brittany's tongue flitted out of her mouth and into Santana's, running over her teeth and lips. She removed her mouth, moving to Santana's neck instead and sucking at her pulse point. The darker girl moaned and reached her hands down her girlfriend's jeans, her fingers immediately finding Brittany's soft spot. The blonde gasped, and Santana grinned, giving a soft growl of pleasure._

"Name?"

"Huh?"

The large, hulking bald mess before her was staring down at a clipboard, tapping it impatiently with his pen.

"Name."

"Santana Lopez."

The bouncer looked down at his clipboard and clicked his tongue. "Yep, you're on the VIP list. Step on inside, kid."

He stepped aside, and she looked up at the door as she walked through it, frowning at the name.

_Circle of Lust_

And then it hit her.

"I'm in the Second Level, aren't I?"

"That's right, darling."

She turned around to look at the voice that had answered, a man leaning behind the bar. He winked lazily at her and handed her a cocktail. "First comer's always get a free drink. So welcome to the circle of Lust, kid. I heard about you. News gets around fast down here. Heard you're looking for your Bee. That's kind cute."

She downed the drink and handed him the glass back, nodding. "Thanks. So what do I have to do down here?"

He leaned the upper part of his body over the bar, getting his head out next to hers and pointing down the length of the area. "Get to that door without falling for temptation."

"And what exactly does that mean?"

He grinned wickedly at her, falling back into place and starting to polish a glass. "You'll see." She didn't question him, something in her head told her not to speak. Instead, she took a deep breath, shrugged off her coat onto a hanger near her hands, and started to walk past the bar.

She had only made it two steps when she finally realized where she really was.

"_I am not going in there, Puck."_

"_OH come on Santana! It'll cheer you up!"_

"_No, Puck! I am not getting into a strip club!"_

_He let go of her hand and frowned at her, shrugging his jacket back into its proper place. "You know, it's not like you're cheating on her. She's dead."_

"_I don't want to have this conversation."_

"Hello, darling."

She twisted her head around to look at the scantily clad girl swaying towards her. She was pretty much dressed in just a small black pair of panties and an unnecessarily lacy black bra that extended into a bodice. Her face had what looked like glitter splattered all over it in an attempt to look sexy, and her eyes were too done up with the black eyeliner.

But Santana couldn't help thinking she was gorgeous nonetheless.

"First time here?"

"Yeah…" she mumbled back as the girl moved closer to her. She wasn't that old. Maybe twenty.

"I'll show you the ropes…" she whispered as she came ever closer, bringing her hands up to Santana's shoulders and pushing her backwards into a sofa that had just appeared out of nowhere. She gulped, feeling her face start to grow hotter, her mouth grow dry.

"What's your name?"

"S-Santana…"

"Well then, hello, Santana."

God, it was the way she said her name, the way it rolled off her tongue effortlessly, the way it sounded so sweet, so right…so goddamn sexy…

"_Santana…"_

"_You need to stop saying my name like that."_

"_I like saying it. It sounds…amazing. Doesn't it?"_

"_I can think of another way it can sound amazing."_

_A moan. A pant. A sigh._

"_Oh, God, Santana…"_

"Relax…" the girl breathed into her ear, her knees tightening against Santana's thighs, lowering herself down slowly, torturously, onto her lap. "Let loose. Touch if you want to."

She shut her eyes, hoping to block out the stripper, but the warmth colliding off her face was enough to betray her. The girl chuckled, her hands moving expertly down Santana's body, stroking her legs as she ground her pelvis down on Santana's centre, a moan bubbling at the back of her throat.

"When was the last time you had sex?" the girl asked in wonder as she put her left hand between her legs, cupping Santana's crotch, teasing slightly with her middle finger. Her right hand found Santana's chest and squeezed, and the moan finally escaped as her hand found the edge of the sofa and gripped for balance.

"_Fuck, B, just get on with it!"_

_Brittany's practiced hands were unbuttoning Santana's shirt tantalizingly slow, her hot breath crashing against Santana's neck, making her squirm slightly as she tried to unbutton her jeans._

"_Calm down, Santana, I'll get to it eventually…"_

"_You-ah!-you bet-better-oh fuck!"_

_Brittany's hands had done what it had taken an almost-eternity for Santana's fumbling fingers to do, unceremoniously slipping off her jeans and panties and throwing them down at the foot of the bed. She had made quick work of her position, quickly slipping a finger into her girlfriend, trailing kisses up to her ear, nibbling slightly on the lobe._

"_God, San, you're just too wet tonight…"_

"How about we take this somewhere a little more private?"

"Uh…" she couldn't speak. This girl had actually managed to impair her vocal chords, stop her muttering a single word. How skilled would you have to be to do that?

"Come on." She got off her and led her into an empty room just opposite where they had been lying, a room adorned with a bed and a single bottle of wine on a table near the door. She was pushed gently onto the bed, sitting at the edge of it as the girl reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, sending it tumbling gracefully to the floor.

"Let's get this started, shall we?"

"I don't think this is a good idea…" Santana managed to shakily protest as her eyes shamefully travelled down to the girl's perfect round breasts.

"Just relax, Santana. What's the worst that can happen?"

"_Britt, I don't think this is such a good idea…"_

"_Just relax, babe. What's the worst that can happen?"_

_"Feelings…"_

_Brittany paused, her fingers hovering over Santana's zipper and frowning slightly. "Well, you said so yourself. You can only catch feelings if you look in each other's eyes, right?"_

"_Yeah…"_

"_Well…" She grinned at her evilly, unzipping Santana's jeans deftly and lowering her mouth down to her panty-covered crotch. "No eye contact then. Just…a lot of tongue."_

The girl's mouth was actually millimeters from hers. She remembered something her older brother had said once, about strip clubs being a place where you could look but you couldn't fuck.

This was so obviously a whorehouse.

"Kid, no, I can't…"

"Why not?"

"I just…" she felt herself stumbling on her words, her tongue betraying her as her mind worked furiously, trying to find a way out of this situation.

She forgot all about Hell and Dante and Beatrice in that moment, and all she could think was how Brittany was supposed to be the one doing this, but goddamn the feeling of this girl's lips on her neck was driving her insane and her half naked body was just adding to the madness-

**Is this how much you care about her?**

The raging voice in her head made her jump slightly, causing the other girl to pause and look at her weirdly. "What?"

"Nothing…just…stop whatever it is you're doing."

**Is this how much Brittany really means to you? That you'd let this girl get this far with you? That you'd fall for the temptation your lustful body so joyfully agrees to?**

"No!"

She had screamed that out into the air, but she didn't care. The girl's eyes had transformed into these dark black orbs – demon eyes she would have called them jokingly in another life time – and she was grinning at her, showing dirty long talon-like teeth.

**She means nothing to you. She was just a vessel of lust. Easily replaceable.**

"No! I love her!" she screamed again, kicking at the girl and pushing her off the bed, onto her back. Her expression never wavered though. The voice seemed to emit from her, seemed to seep out of her closed mouth and straight into Santana's mind…

**You would have replaced her just as easily as you did. You are just as bad as Anthony and Cleopatra, just as lustful as an animal, just as carnal as a dog-**

"I love her!" her voice hoarsely repeated, the room vibrating with the power of her voice. "I always loved her! I miss her, I can't help myself sometimes! I'm only human but never, never will I do this with another woman!" She let out a broken sob, covering her face with her hands and cringing behind them.

"Never…"

"Really?"

She opened her eyes, staring at the girl as she crawled up next to her on the bed, staring her right in the eyes.

"So you wouldn't kiss me…?" she asked as she moved ever closer, her nose bumping against Santana's awkwardly, her lips almost touching hers, when Santana's hand finally found the strength to reach up and slap her.

"Not unless you had blonde hair, blue eyes, and your last name was Pierce."

"Do you mean that?"

She blinked, unsure if what she saw before her was really what she thought.

"Britt…?" 

"Hi."

This wasn't her usual Brittany. She was ghostly, her eyes were wide and her face was pale, her hair stringy and split-ended. But she was Brittany, there was no denying that.

"Britt, I…where are you? I…I came to…" she stopped, her voice descending into a whisper as Brittany's hand reached out and cupped her cheek. She couldn't feel it, but she knew – she just knew – that if she closed her eyes and imagined the feeling, it would be close enough.

"I love you, Santana. Keep going…"

The ghostly figure reached down and pressed her lips to Santana's, and she closed her eyes, feeling tears start to prick the edge of her eyes, imagining that Brittany really was kissing her, that she could feel the imprint of her lips…

And when she opened her eyes she was gone, and she was alone in a dark landscape, sitting on a lone red rock.

"Welcome to the Third Circle, Santana."


	4. Gluttony

_For the pernicious sin of gluttony I, as thou seest, am battered by this rain. – Inferno, Canto VI, The Gluttonous._

"Where am I?" she asked, getting off the rock and looking around. There wasn't much to the scene, just a vast red dessert, with one lonely black door seemingly suspended a few meters away. A man stood by it, dressed neatly in an usher's red uniform. He was gesturing to the door, and she walked towards it, putting her hand on the door knob.

"Do I go through?"

"Yes, Santana."

She pushed the door open, surprised (but not really) to find a banquet hall behind. Nodding at the Portman (or portdemon) she stepped through, closing the door behind her and walking towards the table in the centre. Laden with food, it seemed to be a paradise of every glutton's dream…

And then she remembered the name of the Circle.

"Gluttony."

"That's right!" she heard, and turned around rapidly to meet the chef walking towards her, his hands filled with small blue jelly-like cubes. He placed them on the table before her and gave her a hearty laugh. He was a middle-aged man, obviously a demon disguised, but he looked so harmless it was almost impossible to believe. His hands were covered by black gloves, and his eyes were twinkling at her in a manner she had come to know well in her own eyes.

Mischief.

"Sit down, princess. The feast begins now that you are here!"

"What feast?"

"Ah, the Glutton's Feast, of course! For today you will taste the most amazing food in existence, and you will never be able to turn back!"

She snorted, licking her lips and sitting down. "I doubt it."

"You have met a better cook than me?"

"My girlfriend."

"_Open wide."_

"_Aaaaa-oh God Brittany this is delicious! What is it!"_

"_Veal cooked with mushrooms and pasta."_

"_More!"_

"She cooks?"

"She used to. And she was damn good at it!" Somehow this felt right, this talking about Brittany as if she was still there, as if she hadn't died in that horrible way…

"Well, I assure you, she is nothing compare to me." He gestured at the table and winked at her as he pointed at the plate in front of her, already filled with soup. "Tomato soup?"

"Ugh…hate those things…"

"Well then how about we move to pasta?"

"Are you really trying to tempt me here? I'm not hungry, OK?" She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, giving him her best witty smile. "I just need to know what it is I have to do to get out of this Circle alive, OK? I have a Beatrice to save."

He gave her a small frown before placing a plate of shrimp before her. "You must resist temptation."

"Well, I think I'm doing a pretty good job of that."

"Are you sure?"

"_Santana here, take one."_

"_What is it?"_

"_Shrimp. I tried something with it, soaked them in garlic and-"_

"_Oh, wow. Britt you should go into cooking!"_

"_Think so?"_

"Let me put it this way: you can't get out of here unless you eat something. OK, princess?"

"Why didn't you say so?" she laughed, taking a shrimp from the plate and popping it into her mouth, chewing delicately on it. "But hey, not bad. Actually pretty good."

"Well, I'll leave you to it then. If you can resist temptation, then that door over there will open." He pointed at the door on the other side of the room, a red thing with a large black 'X' emblazoned on it. "Good luck."

"Thanks."

"Call me if you need anything."

"I doubt you'll hear from me again."

He shrugged, exiting from the way he had come, the door she herself had entered from, and she took one long look at the table, trying to pick what to taste first.

"This is the Circle of Gluttony, right?" she asked herself, whispering softly as her hand reached out for a chicken wing. "Meaning I just have to not eat that much…"

For the next few minutes, it was just her tasting food alone in the room, poking random fruits and meats into her mouths, not even trying to decipher what they were. Most of the tastes were spicy, some even burnt, very few mild, but her mind was elsewhere, definitely not here…

"_So what are we doing this Valentine's Day?"_

"_I'm cooking for you."_

"_B, you don't have to…"_

"_I want to, San. Just let me, please?"_

"_Fine…"_

_Brittany looked away from the hot chocolate she was stirring to wink at her briefly before returning her attention to the mug, whistling merrily as she did._

"_What are you going to cook?"_

"_The best thing you'll ever taste."_

"Urm, Mister Chef guy?"

He appeared again, smiling at her as he stepped towards her. "Yes?"

"What are those blue things?"

"Those?" 

"Yeah. They look like jelly."

He grabbed one in his hand, balancing it carefully on his palm, holding it out to her and leaning down to level his eyes with hers.

"This, Santana, is the best thing you will ever taste."

Her eyes trained on the blue cube, and her right hand reached out to it, grabbing it gingerly around the edges. It was just as squishy as it looked, but much lighter than she expected. It seemed to be vibrating slightly, glowing even, but without a second thought she popped it into her mouth, closing her eyes as she did.

When she bit down, it felt like an explosion of sugar had just gone off in her mouth. The cube immediately dissolved, and slid down her throat with ease.

And then it was Valentine's Day before Brittany died again, in her kitchen with her eyes closed as she tasted her girlfriend's latest creation…

"_Oh God! What is this?"_

"_Chicken, wrapped in bacon, cheese in between, and some spinach inside the chicken. Some Italian recipe."_

"_OH wow."_

"_Like it?"_

"_Give me more."_

"More."

"I'm afraid not."

She opened her eyes rapidly, glaring at him.

"What do you mean no? I saw you walk into this room with your arms full of them before! I want more!"

"I'm afraid you can't have more. There's none left."

She turned her eyes back to the table and frowned, knowing full well that there had been a pile of the blue cubes before just sitting in the centre of the table. "What happened to them?"

"Does it matter?"

"I want more."

"Becoming a glutton, I see?"

"You don't understand!" she yelled, getting up so quickly that the chair fell backwards with a loud clang, reverberating around the room. "I need more! I have to have more!"

"Give me one good reason why." His voice was different now, darker and silkier, almost like the illusion was starting to fail…

"Because it's the last thing my girlfriend ever made for me before she died! I need more of them, I just do! Please, just give me more!"

"**Are you really doing this to keep her memory alive?"**

She froze. There it was again, the voice that seemed to want to haunt her throughout, the voice from the whorehouse…

"What-"

"**Are you sure you're not just a greedy little bitch you wants more than she can have? Selfish, conceited little princess who always got what she wanted from Mummy and Daddy, hmm?"**

"That's not it at all…" she whispered meekly at the voice as it came out from the man's closed mouth, as his eyes took on a terrifying black shade, rendering her totally unable to movie.

"**Are you sure? Think about it. You were never denied anything in your life and when it was something you really wanted you threw a fit as soon as it wasn't yours. You're a glutton. You always have been. You're not worthy to pass through here. You're not worthy for your Beatrice at all. All you'll ever do is demand and demand and demand…"**

"I won't."

"**Prove it. Walk through that door, don't come back for more. Never look back and keep walking."**

"_Mrs Pierce?"_

"_Santana, hi, come on in."_

_She entered the kitchen and smiled at her girlfriend's mother, watching her bustle around the kitchen with her face hidden from the girl._

"_I just wanted to come by and bring you some things that were hers…"_

"_That's alright, Santana, you can keep them."_

"_Are you sure?" Santana put the box in her hands on the kitchen table and sighed. "You are her mother."_

"_But she gave them to you. You deserve them."_

_Santana had actually been hoping for that._

"_I miss her too, you know."_

_Mrs Pierce turned to her, smiling at her through watery eyes, nodding._

"_I know."_


	5. Avarice

_All of them were asquint In intellect in the first life, so much That there with measure they no spending made. – Inferno, Canto VII, Fourth Circle: The Avaricious and Prodigal; the Fifth Circle: the Wrathful and Sullen_

**Dedicating this chapter to Erin, who is collidingkiss on Tumblr, and is one of the nicest people I've ever met. She's sweet, she listens to me, and she's a joy to have on my dash. I wish one day we could be friends, and I know that she reads and really enjoys this fic so…this is for her!**

Santana felt her chest grow lighter as she ran out of the room, her back crashing against the door as she closed it and started taking deep breaths, trying to calm herself as she looked around her new surroundings, the new Circle.

She quickly ticked off her mental list. And if her calculations were right…she was now in…

"Avarice?"

Nobody answered, strangely enough. It was a large hall, marble, black and white, columned and arched. And nothing seemed cheap.

"Is this a bank?" she asked again, her voice bouncing off the floor and onto the walls and coming back to her, hitting her right in the ears. She looked behind her, at the door, and shuddered.

She'd just keep walking.

As she walked, she noticed how the floor seemed to be peppered with white figures on the marble, intricate drawings of hourglasses, bones and…

Skulls.

Her eyes caught the stare of one particularly large drawing beneath her feet, cloaked in black, with wings on the back, an hour glass clutched firmly between thin, long fingers. She was at its feet, her eyes travelling from the bottom right to the top of it, shuddering as she noticed that even though there were no eyes, somehow it seemed to gaze at her back.

"Hello?" she called again, and this time a small echo came back, a female voice that yelled back, "Hello!".

Her feet carried her further up the marble hall, until she suddenly reached a desk, a small oak desk right at the end of the corridor, standing right before a large pair of statues. Two skeletons, holding swords that extended towards their middle, staring steadily forward as they guarded a large vault right in their centre, metal and closed and imposing above her…

"_Money money money must be funny in a rich man's world!"_

She blinked away the flash of song and looked at the woman sitting behind the desk, staring up at her. She looked like what you would imagine a woman banker to look like – frameless square glasses on the edge of her nose, a perfect bun of chestnut-blonde hair, a pair of stone cold business-only eyes, pursed lips and a drawn out face. She sat up straight behind the desk, and gave Santana a small, cruel smile.

Santana couldn't help but think she looked like a lizard readying itself to eat a juicy fly.

"Hello, Miss Lopez."

"This is Avarice, isn't it?"

The lady gave her a tight smile and gestured to the chair that had suddenly materialized beside Santana. "What was your first impression?"

"It's a bank. Avarice is Greed. And what's worse than material greed these days, huh?"

The woman nodded and opened up a large leather-bound book she had before her.

"So, Santana Lopez, let's look at some history, shall we?"

"_Santana, can you afford all this?" Quinn asked worriedly as Santana came out of the changing room with her arms laden with five sweaters, three trousers, seven shirts and a dress._

_The darker girl nodded enthusiastically and rushed to the counter, trying hard not to trip over her own feet (a feat proving impossible when she couldn't see her own face). _

"_My dad is one of the richest doctors in Ohio, Quinn. I think I can afford to buy these clothes, no?"_

_Quinn huffed. "You're such a Daddy's girl."_

"_Actually, I'm Daddy's Credit Card's Girl."_

"Looks like you come from a family of…wealthy people."

"Dad's a doctor, Mum's a real estate agent."

"So I see you were raised without want for anything in your life?"

Santana shrugged, trying to prevent herself from being smug about it. She had to keep her cool; she had to get out of this level…

"I guess."

"Well, then, we won't have any real problems here."

She raised an eyebrow at the woman as she rose and walked towards the vault, turning the small lock on the thing. She pulled the metal door open effortlessly, and gestured to Santana.

"Go on. Get in."

The vault was not filled with money, as she had expected.

Inside, arising from the floor and up to the top of the invisible ceiling, where shelves that stretched for miles above and ahead of her. There seemed to be no end to the books carefully stacked in each shelf, and there was definitely no end to the names.

"Ah, here we are."

The woman handed Santana another leather-bound book, one that had her name firmly pressed into the front in imposing gold letters. Santana took it into her hands, then looked up at the woman as she watched her walk away, to the front of the vault.

"How will I know I've won?" she called after her. Won, what a silly expression…this wasn't a game…

"You'll know."

A loud clank filled the room as the door to the vault swung shut and Santana was left alone.

She looked around rapidly in the space and saw a small chair a few feet away. She clambered to it and sat down heavily, opening the book and staring at the first page's text.

_Santana Lopez has been guilty of the sin of Avarice many a time._

Frowning, she looked down at the piece of paper before her and shook her head slightly. Her? Greedy?

"_Daddy, please!"_

_"Santana, no! We can't afford to have that kind of contraption!"_

"_It's a car, Dad!"_

_Her father bared his teeth at her and she backed off. "Don't be greedy, Santana! The greedy are never satisfied!"_

Each paper told a story, or a transcript of a conversation. Each paper stung at her fingers as she turned the page, cutting little indentations into the pads of her fingers, leaving her wincing with each turn of a page. She kept seeing conversations she knew were so superficial nowadays, so silly, so inappropriate…

"_Puck, if you and I are gonna start dating, you had better be ready to fork out the hard cash."_

"_Not a problem, Lopez."_

_"Really? Because I've seen the clothes you wear…"_

And another page…

"_You sure you don't want to pay for dinner, Sam?"_

_"Santana, I don't have that much money…"_

_"Too bad. You're gonna have to pay somehow…"_

And more yet…

"This is stupid…" she found herself muttering as she flipped past another conversation between her and her mother about some Versace heels. "What teenage girl doesn't want these things, huh? I was sixteen and stupid, do you blame me?"

"Well…"

She turned rapidly, dropping the book and making the chair fall backwards, staring wide eyed at a wizened old man standing before her. He was leaning heavily on a cane, his eyes glazed over with age, his face carved into a thousand wrinkles. He was bent into a question mark, though he seemed anything but inquiring. He shuffled forward, and Santana found herself transfixed as she stared at him as he moved forward, his black black eyes capturing her own and keeping her in place.

"Avarice is greed, child. Not only material greed, but emotional greed too. You are guilty of both. How long has it been since you were denied anything in your life? You're beautifully sexy, you were probably always given whatever you wanted by anybody!"

"I was young!" she yelled out, hoping it was a good enough excuse to justify her actions.

"You still did it!" he yelled back, pulling his cane off the floor and pointing the end at her, grinning wickedly as she backed further away, her spine hitting the shelf slightly as she plastered herself against it, trying to get as far away from him as possible.

"You still had sex with whomever you wanted, got whatever you 'needed', convinced anybody you wanted about anything. You still did it. You are still guilty!"

"What about emotional then, huh? What about that?" She had trumped him, she was sure of it. He had completely forgotten about-

Slowly, he pointed back at the book, hitting it with his cane and sending it sliding smoothly to her. "See for yourself…"

"_She's beautiful, she's innocent, she's everything that's good in this miserable, stinking world."_

"I was protecting my girlfriend…"

"You were claiming her as your own. You always did. **It was the mark of a truly greedy person – one who does not even share people with others.**"

"I wasn't going to give her up so easily!" 

The man narrowed his eyes, and a shimmer shook the air, transforming him into a younger version of himself. He was taller, a head full of luscious black hair, the cane still attached firmly to his side.

"**So you'd be willing to keep her all to yourself, like a little bird that's cooped up in the palm of your hand?"**

"I wanted her to be safe and happy! I was the only one who could give her that!"

"**How are you so sure of that?"**

She turned her eyes to her feet, feeling tears actually threaten her eyes. How dare he think that her relationship with Brittany was anything but selfish? How dare he insinuate that Brittany could ever have been happier with someone else?

"I was never greedy when it came to her. I only gave."

"Excuse me?"

She raised her head, a few lonely tears falling down her cheeks, tracing dark wet paths as they fell. "I only gave, I never took from her. Whatever she asked for, whatever she needed, I gave it to her. No hesitation. Ever. I never let her pay for anything, I never let her wait for me, I never made her wait for anything she wanted. I always said yes to her. She…" her voice cracked, and she covered her mouth with her hands as a sob fell from her lips.

"_Anything! I'll pay for anything at all if you can keep her alive!" she cried out to the doctors as she followed them, ignoring the looks from other visitors and patients. "Please just keep her alive!"_

"_I'm sorry, Miss Lopez. There's nothing we can do. She got hit pretty badly. She won't wake up."_

_"I'll pay for the machine. I'll pay for the treatment. Anything! Please!"_

"_Where can an eighteen year old get that much money?" the doctor asked her as he walked away, pushing her to the side indignantly._

"_I'm an almost-heiress here!"_

"_Miss Lopez, there is nothing we can do for your friend."_

"I was ready to give her everything."

"**Anything?"**

"Why do you think I'm down here?" she shouted out, her anger suddenly seeping into her eyes, forming new hot tears, tears of blood thirst. "I'm down here for her, only her! I came back for her! She didn't have to die and I'm going to give everything I've got until she gets her life back!"

Frowning anew, the demon moved forward slightly, poking her with the cane in her knee, hard. **"Are you sure it's not just for you? You're not doing this because you're lonely, are you? Because if you are…then you're just as Greedy as the rest of them."**

She backed down, her mind clouding over as the shadow of doubt he had placed there suddenly started to grow. Was this really all worth it.

"_I'll give up anything for you. Anything."_

"_Santana, don't say that."_

_"I'd die for you, Brittany. I would."_

"**Would you be willing to never return to the surface if she had to live?"**

"Yes."

"You answer so readily."

She looked him right in the eye, emotion draining from her face to be replaced by a stone cold cover.

"You underestimate me."

"_Santana!"_

_She looked up at Rachel as she entered her apartment and rolled her eyes. Or at least, she tried to. But she was too weak. Her head was light, her body was disconnected. Something wet and sticky was falling to her fingers slowly, staining her red. _

"_Santana what happened?"_

_She tried to speak but she only found herself croaking. Rachel engulfed her in an embrace and started murmuring softly into her hair as she grabbed the telephone, punching in 911 quickly. "Santana, why? Why would you do this? Brittany wouldn't want you to do this…she'd want you to live on. She loved you, Santana. You have to live on, for her. She wouldn't want this…don't be selfish, please!"_


	6. Anger

_Son, thou now beholdest The souls of those whom anger overcame;- Inferno, Canto VII, Fourth Circle: The Avaricious and Prodigal; the Fifth Circle: The Wrathful and Sullen_

She had passed out. She was lying on a very cold familiar piece of wood, and the smell of a dusty well known space was filling her nostrils as she breathed in, trying to figure out where she was.

She opened her left eye slowly and stared at the floor of the McKinley high auditorium, right in the centre of the stage. She was lying on the auditorium, just as it had been years before, in senior year, right after Regionals…right before everything went to bust…

And she sat up quickly and stared around her, at the set and the stage, and the empty auditorium, and dusted herself off. Somehow, she was wearing her old Cheerios uniform, but she didn't question it. She smelt it in the air around her, underneath the smell of dust and wax and sweat, the smell of smoldering souls and ashes, the smell of Hell.

"What am I supposed to do here, huh?" she shouted out the seats, spreading her arms slightly. She heard a soft whisper, a voice in the back of her head, gnaw at her and say 'Get out, walk around'. Her legs obeyed he voice without her thinking about it, and soon she was walking out of the auditorium and into the hallway.

A paper flew in front of her face, sticking to her body as it ruffled in some sort of gust of wind. She peeled it off her and stared at it, frowning at the large angry, red A painted on it….

And then it clicked.

_Anger._

'Your task is simple'

There it was again, that voice. The insistent little annoying fucker which seemed to command her in this Level.

'You must resist all anger, all temptation, from anybody. And I mean anybody. Fail to comply, and you will perish. And so will your Beatrice'

She looked up and frowned, the words not really sinking in. temptation? From what?

And then a slushie hit her.

"Oops, sorry, Lizard Queen!"

She growled at Dave Karofsky's retreating teenage figure, too enraged to realize that he was, in fact, a teenager. How did that happen? What was happening, anyways? It seemed like every face in the hall was suddenly angled at hers, glaring at her, making her feel unwelcome…

"Hey, dyke."

Ah, the age old insult, the one that supposedly hurt so many people. She growled and twisted around to stare at the offending jock as he winked at her from his position leaning against the lockers, crossing his arms over his chest. "What you need is a guy to straight you out, you know?"

She almost retaliated, almost brought her fist up to his face, but then she remembered the words of the voice. She had to be calm, she had to walk through the hall and make it to the end of it, to the football ground, without ever once losing her temper…

She walked past him, and breathed out heavily as he didn't reach out for her. Shouldering herself, she walked on, past various whispering voices in the corridors, glaring and judgmental eyes. For a few minutes, the endless hall (she didn't remember it being this long) was quiet save for the murmurings of people as she walked by, but then suddenly she was frozen in place by a grating, annoying voice calling from behind her.

"Hey, Santana, why don't you just come out of the closet?"

Her left foot froze half way through the air, and then slowly landed on the floor as she heard Finn's voice coming closer to her ear, taunting her.

"You know, I get why you're so angry all the time…"

Previously, this situation had brought her nothing but pain, nothing but panic and misery. But now, now she was angry. Now she was raging at the fact that he had forced her out before she was ready, he had made her face her demons without any armour on…

The rage bubbled beneath her surface, relentlessly bumping at her sides and boiling at her ears, threatening to spill. She squeezed her eyes shut and hoped that if she walked away, she could maybe escape the temptation, the sin…

She made a motion with her legs, and suddenly an arm shot out and grabbed her from around the waist, pulling her back to sit in a chair (A chair? Where did that come from?) and staring up at the face of Will Schuester, or rather a ghostly version of it…

"You're banned from Glee. Don't come back until you can be as loyal as everyone else in this room."

And she felt her heart pang. She growled at the ghastly face, feeling her anger boil brighter and quicker, actually bubbling up to her face and turning her cheeks red, making her fists bunch up and her nails leave crescent shaped marks in her palms…

"No."

The face disappeared, and with it, the chair. She fell – plop! – right onto her ass and she hauled herself up, muttering about how linoleum floors were never comfortable.

"Santana?"

She looked up at Puck, smiling at the teenage, mohawked boy, giving him her winning, flirty wink. "Hey there, Puck."

"Uh…hi…" he mumbled back, moving backwards a step. "You alright?"

Glad she had found a friend, she let out a long sigh. "Yeah I will be. What are you doing here?"

"Oh uh…waiting for Lauren."

There it was again! That sting that settled in her chest and made her eyes tinge red at the edges, that made her heart beat quicker and heavier in her rib cage, beating against the bones with new found fervor.

"Lauren?" That hippo? That blithering, blundering idiot that had taken away 'her man', back when he had been her man to take?

"Yeah, I mean…she's nicer than you and actually kinda likes me. You never really did." He shrugs and walks off, right into the waiting arms of the large girl standing waiting for him not far behind. Gritting her teeth, Santana felt her eyes start to hurt as, for some reason, her vision started to go red and blurry.

Tears? Really? Of what? Anger? Hurt? Or maybe disappointment?

Disappointment at what? You've been let down before, Lopez, this is no different. It's just a recollection of events long past, you went through them before you'll go through them just fine this time.

So she took another deep breath and started to move through the crowd again, this time noticing how much thicker it was getting…how more people were shouting out past arguments at her…

"_People grow apart. Deal with it."_

"_The only job you'll ever have is working on a pole!"_

"_I'm demoting you to the bottom of the pyramid."_

"_Why did you promote a lesbian to be head of your cheerleading squad?"_

She fought on, shoving past face after face, trying to block her ears from the voices, trying to look at the end of the whole and nowhere else.

But as she slowly neared the end, as she thought that she was there, she saw it.

There, in the arms of another girl, an unfamiliar face, was Brittany, their lips connected, their hands intertwined, her blonde dancing girlfriend pinned against the wall and succumbing to the touch and taste of another woman…

And she lost it.

"No!"

She stormed forward, her arms flailing at her side as she pushed away bodies into lockers, making her bee line a war path to the girl she had thought was hers, the girl she was doing all this for…

And then she remembered.

She stopped moving, froze on her way and almost fell to her face as she skidded, her arms trying to find balance and support in empty, mid air.

She was falling into the trap.

"No…no no no no no…" she repeated over and over as she realized the very obvious trap, the temptation and sin throwing into her face.

"**Is this what you are? A vessel for anger and spite and jealousy? You are no better than Othello…you would kill if you knew your loved one was cuckolding you. You are nothing but a jealous fool!"**

The voice was ringing in her head, making her clutch at the side of her head, at her ears, moaning in pain as the voice simply reverberated on and on…

"**You would so easily resort to anger against the one person you swore never to be angry at. You are pathetic. You don't deserve her if this is what you are! You will never have her!"**

"Brittany!" she screamed, closing her eyes shut, falling forward, her forehead connecting with the linoleum, her mouth slowly muttering out her apologies.

"I'm so sorry…so sorry…I can't do this like this. I need to go on…I can't stop. Brittany please no I'm sorry…"

"Love."

She looked up, the face of Brittany, ghostly and pale, hovering above hers, smiling down at her sweetly only in the way Brittany could.

"Don't cry."

"You…you're back? I saw you in Lust last!" Santana squealed, oblivious to her surroundings melting away and morphing into the next torture she was to face…

"I know, baby, I'm sorry. I couldn't make it again until now! If it was up to me I'd be following you around like a mystical guardian…"

"A Virgil?"

"Yeah, sure. A vigil."

Santana didn't have the heart to correct her, merely moved forward and brushed her own, living lips against wispy, smoky ones. Brittany smiled at her and reached a hand out to brush at Santana's face, the feeling similar to that of a soft cool breeze.

"Be strong, love. I've been down here for eight years. If I made it, so can you."

"How much longer, Britt?" she shouted out as the figure started to disappear.

"Not going to lie to you, baby, but it only gets harder from here…"


	7. Heresy

_When thou shalt be before the radiance sweet Of her whose beauteous eyes all things behold, From her thou'lt know the journey of thy life. – Inferno, Canto X, Sixth Circle: The Heretics_

Somehow she had passed out, she wasn't sure what happened and how she had ended up with a blank memory in her mind, but she knew that she had woken up in a large banquet hall, sitting at the head of the table, with food and drink laid out for her.

She wasn't alone, either. There were so many people, sitting around the table, filling golden goblets with wine or water, chatting amongst themselves. They were all dressed so nicely, and as she looked down, she realized she was too. She looked back up at her company, and cleared her throat slightly.

Only one man turned to look at her, his eyes boring deep into hers, smiling at her softly as she stared back at him. "Yes?"

"Urm…what is it?"

"Oh, forgive us! We were too caught up in our conversation! Welcome to Heresy, Miss Lopez!" he grinned, spreading his arms slightly. "As always, the rules are that you must resist our advances to you to survive, but fear not, the food and drink are not enchanted, that much we can assure you of. Eat and drink to your heart's content, you won't regret it later!"

"Why not?"

"You need to replenish your energy! We've already let you sleep until you were fine, now you can eat and drink until you're full, and you'll have enough energy to face the rest of the Circles!"

"So…what's this section again?"

One of the people sitting around the table pushed a plate filled to the brim with seafood, and smiled at her. "Heresy. Nothing to battle or to face here, just a civilized meal and a chat over said meal. Are you ready?"

"I…I guess."

"Let's begin!"

* * *

><p>"<em>Do you believe in God?"<em>

"_You know I do, B."_

"_Well, why don't you go to church anymore?"_

"_They don't like me…"_

"_Because you're gay?"_

"_Pretty much."_

"So, let's talk," one of the people around the table supped at his drink and looked at her square in the eye, watching her as she bit into a forkful of steak. "Why are you down here?"

"I'm looking for someone," she answered warily, washing down the steak with a sup at her goblet, feeling her mouth fill with the taste of root beer.

"Friend? Lover? Familiar?" a woman asked, passing her a bowl of steamed vegetables.

"Lover."

"Oh, who? Maybe we might know him!" a young woman, no older than her tittered, giving a small clap. "I bet it's that lovely Sam Evans! The one who died in war? Oh, wait, can't be, he's a homosexual…"

"Something tells me that's the case with our living friend here too, darling," a man sitting next to her said gently, narrowing his eyes at Santana. "Are you?"

"I'm looking for a woman, if that's what you're asking."

"Ah. What happened?"

"She died, what else?"

"_May she rest in peace."_

"_Amen," the entire congregation said together. It took her a while to speak, and she simply stared at the ground, swallowing back mouthfuls of air, trying to stay calm. Quinn nudged her shoulder, and she sucked in a gulp of air and breathed it out in one word._

"_Amen."_

"How unfortunate. But, I guess not really. Everyone has to die in the end, it's what humans do. Get born, live, sleep, eat, fuck, die. It's a grand life!"

"Yeah, with a lot of complications in between."

"Nothing a little bit of faith doesn't fix, am I right?" a fat bellied man bellowed from the other end of the table, giving a heart guffaw and shoveling a spoonful of rice into his mouth.

"Urm, yeah, faith."

"Oh, are you not a believer? Have we…offended you?" one of the men from before asked, giving her a malicious grin, an awful, demeaning stress on the last two words. "Are you an atheist? Agnostic?"

"No, I just…I don't know. God doesn't particularly like me, or so I'm constantly told back up there." Here, she raised her eyes to the beautiful, ornate ceiling, frowning slightly. _Up there_. It felt like years since she'd last been in the living world. Had anything changed? Was anyone looking for her? Or maybe no time at all had passed… Maybe this place was like Narnia and all the time she spent down here was just a fraction of a second up there. Or maybe time just froze up there while it went on down here.

Down here.

She was speaking as if she belonged in Hell now.

"By who are you told this?"

"Most overzealous people." She coughed once, clearing her throat, and held a finger up to the air, her voice taking on a high pitched mimic. "'You're going to hell, you're a sinner, atone for what you've done, change the way you are, God didn't make you this way!' Bull_shit_!" She spat the last word, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms and legs defensively. "Well, if God doesn't want me, so be it. I don't need God!"

"Why not?"

She jumped at the voice, thinking it was her usual demon visitor in her mind, threatening her every step of the way in this hell hole (no pun intended…at all). But it was just one of the people at the table who had been, previously, silent. He was large, a giant for sure, sitting at the head of the table, glaring her down. She was surprised that she hadn't noticed him before. He was _huge_. But maybe the fact that he had been quiet had prevented her from noticing him… He hadn't made a single sound before now.

"Why _not_?" he asked again, emphasizing the last word.

"Because…well, He takes away all the people I love from me, He has all his followers tell me I'm a sinner just because I choose to love someone that isn't a man, He goes around making my life hell on earth and I'm just here thinking 'It's alright, good things come to those who wait', but they never do. Because He doesn't care about me, he's got bigger problems. I'm just a tiny little speck, a dent in his plan. He doesn't care about me."

"Dents become bigger, they can cause holes, big problems."

"He still wouldn't care enough to fix it."

"How are you so sure?"

"Because he took away the one thing in my life that was important to me…" she looked down at her hands, at the still visible white scars on her wrists, and sighed. "And because when I tried to end my own life, I was saved."

"_Rachel, why did you save me?" she asked, holding back tears as she stared at the tiny brunette standing beside her in that bleak white hotel room._

"_Because I want you to live, Santana."_

_"Well _I don't want to live anymore!_ Not without Brittany!" she yelled, the ECG monitor skipping a beat before rapidly pumping away as her heart rate increased, as sobs racked her body, as she struggled against the IV drips. "I'm not gonna make it in this world without her! I don't want to!"_

"So you went against everything the religion teaches…and tried to kill yourself?" a woman asked, and Santana shrugged.

"Yeah, so?"

"So! That is a big deal! Suicide is a no-go, all Catholics know that! Your life isn't yours to take, it's God's!"

"Well, he's doing a horrible job of it, lemme tell you that!" Santana growled. "Isn't He supposed to listen to us when we really need him, answer our prayers? For years I prayed that maybe somehow I would wake up and I'd be dead and I'd be with her again! And I never did. Never! Because he doesn't listen, he doesn't care!"

She paused, thinking carefully about what she was going to say next, and rose off her chair.

"I don't even think he really exists anyways."

The whole group at the table froze, forks stopping mid air and goblets toppling over still filled with drink.

She watched as the whole group started to suddenly, slowly and simultaneously rise from their chairs, glaring at her, their eyes suddenly growing darker, hair slicker, bodies leaner and nails growing longer and becoming talons.

She gulped, moving backwards, tripping over her chair and sprawling backwards, bruising her elbow and back. She closed her eyes, untangling herself from the chair and moving back on the floor, a whimper coming from her closed throat.

She thought she heard a large collective yell, and then a bright flash of light penetrated her closed eyelids. She cracked open one eye and stared at the orb of white light swirling in mid air, and the puffs of black smoke that was all that was left of the demons she had been facing earlier.

She stared at it, watching as it started to spin faster in the air, lightning bolts cracking out of it and striking centimeters from the soles of her feet, scorching the ground. It started to grow larger, taking on a form, and Santana closed her eyes and covered her face with her arms, praying rapidly under her breath that no harm would befall her from this strange new possibly foe.

"Hey, sweetcheeks!"

Her arms flung off her face and she rushed onto her feet at the familiar voice, staring with a wide grin at the vision of a white clad Holly Holliday.

"Miss H! What…what are you doing here?" She froze, suddenly her eyes growing wide with realization. "Are you dead too?"

"No, no, I'm not Holly, I'm just a representation of her. I'm the form of a person you feel safe around."

"Then…who are you?"

"I'm one of the Virgils."

"…What?"

Holly – or what looked like Holly – sighed and sat down on the table, crossing her legs delicately. "Well, we're a group of friendly, faceless, genderless spirits, who are sort of like the Guardians of any brave Dante-types who venture down here looking for their Beatrice. And I'm your Virgil."

"Oh…"

Santana stood silent for a while, processing all this, before she walked closer. "Why didn't you show up earlier?"

"You didn't seem like you needed my help earlier, you were doing fine. But these demons were about to rip you apart. I saved you. Just be thankful you're alive and can go on to the next level."

"Am I close? To the end, I mean. To her."

Holly smiled and reached a hand out, brushing it against her dark skin, the feeling of an angel touching Santana sending feathers down her spine as energy coursed through her, mending her bruises and pulsing through her blood.

"Very close, actually. You'll be there soon. I promise." She cleared her throat and closed her eyes. "When thou shalt be before the radiance sweet of her whose beauteous eyes all things behold, from her thou'lt know the journey of thy life."

* * *

><p>"<em>Miss H?" Holly turned at the voice and smiled at Santana, giving her a small wave.<em>

"_Hey, sweetcheeks."_

"_Thanks for coming…" Santana sighed, walking into the woman's embrace. "I…Britt liked you."_

"_It's alright, honey. I'm glad I could come." Holly tightened her grip around Santana and sighed. "I'm so very sorry she had to die. She was so young…"_

"_I know."_

* * *

><p>"<em>Santana?" Holly entered the room and stared at the girl, weak in the bed and staring up at the ceiling, the marks on her wrists still so very clear. "Hi."<em>

"_Hi, Miss H."_

"_I wanted to see you…"_

"_I appreciate."_

"_Are you alright?"_

_Santana scoffed and held up one arm. "Does this look alright to you? I'm a mess! She's dead and I wish I was too…"_

_Holly moved forward and sighed. "Sweetcheeks, I'm so sorry. If I could do anything for you, if I could bring her back, I would."_

"_Miss H? There is something I want you to do."_

_Santana paused, and gestured to the empty seat near her bed. "Please, sit, and just…keep me company."_

_Holly gave her a watery smile before following her instructions and taking Santana's outstretched hand in her own, watching the girl, so frail and weak and small and emptied of her fire, slowly break down and self destruct before her._

"_I thought you'd never ask."_


	8. Violence

_Of my own house I made myself a gibbet. – Inferno, Canto XIII, Seventh Circle: The Violent against Themselves_

-0-

After Holly – or rather, Virgil-Holly – had uttered those words, the ones that seemed to give Santana courage, she had kissed her on the forehead gently, an angel's touch, and when Santana opened her eyes she was in a movie theater, much like the one in Lima, the one she and Brittany had often frequented on dates.

The place they had shared their first kiss.

She sat down on one of the seats, feeling the scratchy plush beneath her legs rake at her skin, and she sighed. It was a feeling she was familiar with, finally. Something she knew well…

The lights slowly started to dim, and the screen lit up. She crossed her legs, finally able to take a breath, and smiled softly as the screen displayed its 'Welcome!' image. But the smile soon faded when the music coming from the speakers turned into horrible, ear-wrenching splits and screams of angry violins as the screen displayed her location.

The Seventh Circle of Hell: Violence.

Her fists clenched defensively and her whole body tensed as she felt the atmosphere suddenly grow darker, a sense of foreboding resting in her mind and jolting her senses to full alert.

The screen flickered a few times before a single image flitted onto the space, the image of a bruised, beautiful face.

"Britt!" Santana screamed out instinctively, jumping up in her seat and getting to her feet. "What did they do to you?"

Nobody answered her, but she thought she heard soft, maniacal laughter coming from her left. She swooped around, but there was nobody there, just heavy shadows. Her eyes turned cautiously back to the screen, and she gulped as she suddenly saw Brittany being slushied right before her eyes, the red liquid dripping down her face, highly reminiscent of…blood.

"_Brittany, what happened?"_

"_Azimio got me," she mumbled as Quinn gently touched a towel to her face. Santana sighed and yanked the towel from Quinn's hands, dabbing at Brittany's face herself, gently kissing Brittany's hairline as she did._

"_You taste like strawberry."  
><em>

"_My eyes hurt, San…"_

"_Shush, I'm here to make it better. I'll beat the crap out of him."_

The next clip that played was one of Brittany being thrown into the dumpster, something Santana knew had never happened. But it hurt, seeing the lithe dancer being flung into the air like a rag doll and plonked so unceremoniously and painfully into the metal container. She watched as pale fingers curled around the edge of the dumpster and tried to haul herself out, but some cruel bastard whose face she couldn't see slammed the lid down onto her fingers, and Santana was pretty sure she heard a crack…

"Leave her alone," she murmured, almost a low growl. "She's done nothing wrong."

The screen skipped a frame as the new image started, one of Brittany being pulled by her hair, right into the middle of a circle of jocks and cheerleaders, each of them sporting their own weapon: a balled-up fist, a belt, a rock, a crowbar…

When the first blow landed on her lover's skin, Santana closed her eyes and roared out, clawing at the fabric on her seat. When she heard Brittany's scream the first time, she rose to her feet and opened her eyes, jumping over seat after row of seat, reaching the large, canvassed screen and slamming her hands against it, ignoring the searing pain.

"No! Stop! You're hurting her, please! She's fragile, she's not very strong!"

They didn't hear her, or if they did they completely ignored her. The blows got worse, and Santana could see the bruises forming on Brittany's skin, purple and dark and angry. She felt tears sear at her eyes, and gave out a cry of desperation as she fell to her knees, one hand still on the screen.

"She's already suffered enough, please, stop!"

She felt something grab at the front of her shirt and pull her forward, right into the screen, as she dissolved and became part of the picture. She swung her hand back and rapidly forward again, punching the first demon she could reach right in the nose, sending him sprawling backwards as he howled in agony. She kicked him out of the way and start to sprint forward, clawing and biting her way through a crowd of people, trying to get through the throng to the centre, right where she knew Brittany would be.

She got to her, a broken body almost totally covered in blood. Cradling her head in her hands, Santana started to wipe at the cuts and bruises with her hands, tucking Brittany's hair behind her ears as she did, mumbling incoherent phrases as she desperately wished she could heal her, make her better, somehow fix her…

She felt them closing in on her, and her grip on Brittany tightened. She didn't know what the task of this circle was. Was it to save Brittany, was it to overcome the demons?

_Violence._

That was it.

She closed her eyes, and steeled her back against the blows she knew would rain down. Fighting back would cause the loss of her battle, and she was in far too deep for her to lose now.

"_Oh, how the mighty have fallen," she heard one of those hockey jerks mumble into her ear as he pinned her down on the floor, his beefy hands grasping hers behind her back and twisting them into awkward angles. She wriggled in a feeble attempt to lessen the pain, trying to get her body back into her own control, giving out gasps of pain as she realized she was trapped._

"_What should we do with the dyke, huh?"_

"_Dumpster!"_

"_Slushie!"_

"_Swirly!"  
><em>

_The immature teenage boys all yelled their input, trying their best to give in torture methods they could apply to the defenseless girl beneath them. She merely bit her bottom lip, fighting back the urge to bite and scratch and scream and claw at their eyes. She couldn't do anything, she was totally trapped…_

_How the mighty had fallen indeed._


	9. Fraud

_This transfixed one, whom thou seest, Counselled the Pharisees that it was meet To put one man to torture for the people._

"Inferno, Canto XXII, Eight Circle, Fifth Pouch: the Barrators; Sixth Pouch: the Hypocrites

The blow never came.

She felt like she had been suspended for an eternity, in a state of waiting for the blow and knowing that it would never come. She had felt an overwhelming warmth the minute she had closed her eyes, and then she had been stuck in this…limbo.

She felt her body loosen and relax, any bruises start to heal and any cuts on her clothes suddenly renewed by a warm light. She could feel the sweat and dust being wiped off her, and she almost gave out an appreciative sigh.

Her eyes opened of their own accord and she realized she was sitting in a giant marble hall. Around here were gleaming white walls and shining floors. She felt a hand brush against her shoulder and she looked up the fleeting image of Holly Hollyday, winking before she disappeared from her vision.

Thank God for Virgils…

"Miss Lopez, please follow me."

She turned her attention to the man in the black suit standing before her, a blood red tie the only thing about him that showed any colour. His face was deathly pale, his hair as black as his suit, and his eyes…well…she wouldn't even call them eyes. Just two black holes in the middle of his face.

She got up and followed him as he rambled off some sort of legal jargon, and she knew she was in a court room. She mentally started to tick off every where she'd been so far, and smiled to herself when she realized she was almost at the end.

This was the Eight Circle – Fraud.

"Just stick to the story, tell the truth, and you'll be fine," he smiled at her, opening the door for her and letting her into the room. She nodded and walked in, her shoes echoing off the pristine walls and leading her towards the podium where more, demonic figures were seated. A jury was filled with grey, shimmering people, all that was visible being their eyes. The judge looked much like the lawyer who had let her in, only he had a stock of blonde hair. Next to him stood a bailiff, and he was holding the door to the box open for her.

"The hearing of Miss Santana Lopez shall hereby begin. We shall start with asking the defendant about any occurrences in the past where she has hidden any secrets or motives."

-0-

"_Santana, are you OK?"_

"_I'm…I'm fine."_

"_You look sick."_

"_Mr Schue, I'm fine. Just…give me a minute."_

-0-

"Is it true that you hid an eating disorder for the better part of a year from your friends?"

"Yes."

-0-

"_Do you really enjoy the sex with me? Be honest."_

"_Puck, I do. Now just shut up and get to work again."_

-0-

"Is it true that you hid your sexuality for many years before finally coming to terms with it?"

"I…yes."

"Now why would you do that?"

"It was easier to hide," she blurted out without really thinking about it, reprimanding herself mentally when she realized that all the demons had turned to look at her with more hunger in their eyes. She felt the air charge and the light flash before it settled back to the bright light it had previously been.

"How does that saying go? The truth will set you free?"

"Yeah but not when the truth is one that can damage your reputation."

"Do you admit it and accept it?"

She nodded, once, solemnly, and the demon looked slightly confused. He wasn't expecting this, she knew. He wasn't expecting her to be so chill and calm in front of him, to be so readily able to answer his questions.

"Well, you seem to be standing proudly."

"Of course," she answered, shrugging. "My truth is all the truth there is. Have I not proved myself in the past circles, have I not proven strong in my purpose?"

"Yes."

"Then what exactly is the purpose of this?" she asked, cocking her head to the side and giving him a wicked smile. The jury hissed behind her and she felt her blood run cold as the judge-demon leaned forward, his icy cold breath hitting her square in the face.

"Are you Santana Lopez?" 

"I-"

"Are. You. **Santana Lopez."**

"Of course I am." 

"**Are you the same Santana Lopez from the Upper World? The one who mourned the death of her lover and resolved to come down to the Depths of Hell simply to rescue her, and not just because she was selfish and needed somebody to validate her life?"**

"Didn't I discuss this in another part of Hell already?"

"**Are you really the same woman who would risk anything, even not going back to the surface world herself if it meant Brittany could still be alive?"**

Staring at those soulless eyes, Santana felt something inside her stir. She didn't answer, and he sneered, leaning closer.

"**Do you really love her or are you just another fraud?"**

Something inside her was burning.

She didn't know why, but she reached a hand out and touched it to his face. Expecting to feel scales and goo beneath her skin, instead her hand passed right through his skin like smoke. But he felt it. He screamed. Her hand was glowing a bright white light beneath his skin, and she pulled it out and turned to the bailiff, stabbing him in the neck with her fingers. Both him and the judge disappeared into a cloud of dust, and she turned to look at the jury.

A shrieking filled the air before they suddenly disappeared as well, too scared to confront her. She grinned in the empty room as it started to melt around her, revealing the dark material that had been hiding behind the pearly white all along. She was looking down at her hand when she heard a ringing laugh.

"Well done! It only took Dante _never_ to figure that out!"

"Virgil?"

"That's me!" She turned around, smiling at the angel floating above her, surrounded by a myriad of bright spinning balls of light.

"Are they?"

"Other Virgils, yeah. They just wanted to check you out."

The lights bobbed once, twice, thrice, before floating up into the air and disappearing into the inky blackness above her. Santana was left staring at a replica of Holly, and she shrugged. "What happened?"

"You're pure in your cause. Demons can't stand that. You got out of that easy, and there's only one more Circle left. You'll make it if you just keep strong."

"Right." 

"Get going, sweetcheeks."

Santana nodded, closed her eyes, and waited for the suspension to take over again.


	10. Dance with the Devil

_I come from a place whither I desire to return. – Inferno, Canto II, Beatrice_

The final circle faded away around her as she stood in front of large, black doors, topped by a grinning skull that burned its gaze into her skin. Two large pillars of flame, unsupported by anything and burning without any sort of source, flanked the door, and she was afraid that stepping forward might cause them to leap at her and hurt her. But, when she carefully inched her hand closer to the beautiful black marble, the flame stayed where they were.

In one quick movement, Santana pushed the door open and stepped inside the white tiled hall that led, an eternity away, to the throne of The Devil Himself.

She didn't remember the walk to the throne. She remembered stepping into the hall and taking the first few steps along the floor, but after that, a darkness engulfed her that left her standing trembling at the foot of the stairs that led to the throne, her eyes trained at the bottom-most step.

"Yes?" a bored voice sang out from slightly above her, and she tore her eyes up to look at him.

In his danger, Santana thought that this man still looked beautiful. He lay draped over the throne much like any lazy teenager would sit – legs thrown over one arm rest, head lolling on the other, one arm dangling to brush his long, delicate fingers against the floor, the other hidden from her sight.

"A-are you-"

"Oh, no, a stutterer," he drawled, rolling his eyes and staring up at the ceiling once the motion was finished – training his black, soulless eyes on to the vast, endless roof above them. "I am going to be here for_ever_. Ugh, well, that's what you get for being immortal, I guess."

It took her a second to take him all in. He had hair as dark as his eyes, with flecks of grey in it the colour of ash. He had a little bit of stubble, and his skin was pale, but she thought she could detect the faint tinge of olive in it. Clearly, living in the Underworld meant he could never work on his tan at all…

He swung his legs off the arm rest and smacked them onto the floor, levering himself in a sitting position. "Well, spit it out, then. Who are you, why are you here, yada yada yada."

"I'm…" Where does she start? Her eyes continued to linger over his body, trying to figure out what was so strange about him. Tucked behind the black buttoned shirt he was wearing, she was sure there was solid skin. His legs, covered in a simple pair of jeans, looked like they were made of flesh and bone. His bare feet certainly proved that, anyways.

And then it hit her.

"You're so ordinary."

He sighed, as if he had heard that a thousand times before, and rolled his eyes upwards, giving one short, curt nod.

"Yes, I look human, if that's what you mean."

"But, how? Aren't you like, the Lord of Darkness?"

"Yes, and Darkness has many shapes and forms, young one."

"But I was expecting something scarier…" she whispered, and he laughed, standing up. He towered above her, a solid six feet and then some, crossed his arms and smiled.

"Child, I am scary enough on my own. I have seen cities crumble, empires fall, _bad_ things happen to good people. Trust me, you don't need an intimidating appearance when you can do so much with a snap of a finger."

And as he said it, he raised his hands and gave a single snap with each hand, and a misty figure appeared before him, standing at his feet, almost made of smoke, but recognizable.

"Brittany?!"

"Got it right on the first try, nice!" he grinned to himself before snapping his fingers again and making Brittany disappear.

She raised her gaze at him, glaring. "Give her back to me."

"Or what?"

She frowned. There was really nothing she could do against him.

"Please, I came all this way."

"How long?"

"I don't know how long it's been since I entered the Door to Hell!"

"No!" he yelled, and she stopped, realizing she had been yelling at him, and realizing two seconds after that that was probably a big mistake to make.

"I mean, how long has she been dead?"

"Don't you know?"

"There are many dead souls in my wake, young one. I don't have time to keep tabs on all of them."

She frowned, looking down at the floor again, and shrugging. "Nine years."

"Nine years? Quite a while. Took you long enough to get the courage to actually come down here."

"I spent a lot of my time researching."

"Yes, I'm sure you dedicated your whole life to the cause," he scoffed, turning around and walking towards the throne again, sitting back down. He snapped his fingers and a bowl of fruit materialized in the air beside him; he grabbed a pomegranate, started peeling it before her eyes and slowly eating its fruit.

"Nine years is a long time…"

"I'm here now, aren't I?"

"Please, let me finish," he said quietly, but she knew it was a lethal quiet, and she stopped herself again, watching as she slowly picked out the fruit one by one and popped them into his mouth, smiling softly to himself.

"Nine years is enough of a time to forget someone's face, someone's voice, someone's…everything. Or anything."

She gulped, stepping forward.

"I haven't forgotten her."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Do you still remember the little things? The smell of her hair after she comes home from being out, the way her skin glistens with sweat, the way she tastes when you kiss her, the way she would wrap her arms around you, the little things she did when she was happy or sad, what she sounded like, what she looked like, what she felt like?"

"_Santana?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_Hug me, I'm cold."_

_"Sure, babe."_

-0-

"_Santana, babe, are you OK?"_

"_I…uh…yeah…"_

"_Were you crying?!"_

"_It's nothing, Britt."_

"_No, come on, lemme kiss you."_

-0-

"_I love you."_

"_Your skin's really soft…"_

"_So you've told me, about like, five times in the past minute."_

"_I love you too."_

-0-

**I remember.**

"What's that?" he said, raising an eyebrow as he looked at her, watching her eyes open and realization dawn on her.

"I remember. I remember everything. I remember the first time I ever told her I love her, I remember how much I cried at her funeral, I remember getting to the hospital five minutes too late because of traffic, I remember everything about her, and I'll never forget."

"You sound so sure."

"I've only ever loved one person in my life, Lucifer, and that was her."

He stared at her, his eyes burning holes into her skin and her eyes and her clothes and scrutinizing her very being, thought, soul, before he nodded once and threw the pomegranate skin to the floor at her feet, smiling at her.

"You may take her."

"For…for real?!"

"Yes, 'for real'." He brought his hands together, closing his eyes and humming softly. A glowing ball of light entered the room and settled down at the bottom of the stairs, swirling rapidly before exploding into a human figure, a female figure…

"Britt!"

"Santana?! What are you…why are you here?!" she yelled, running at her and grabbing her into her arms. Santana, gasping for air with the tears streaming down her cheeks – tears she didn't know she still had in her – held her tightly, looking at Lucifer as he nodded again. Suddenly, a searing pain started up in her left bicep, and she gave a small scream, angling her head and letting go of Brittany to look at her arm.

"Take this scar and always remember what you underwent for True Love, Santana Lopez. I will maybe see you again one day, who knows."

She looked up at him, but the young man was gone. In his place sat a shriveled old man, holding on tightly to the throne arms with bone like hands, smiling a no-tooth smile at her.

"How do I get to the surface world?" she asked, as calmly as possible behind the pain, and she smirked.

"Just close your eyes and you'll be there. But I warn you, Brittany will not be there with you when you get back."

"What?! That's not-"

And then the pain in her arm exploded, the wizened old man disappeared, and the whole world went black.


	11. Purgatory

_He goes seeking liberty, which is so dear, as he knows who for it renounces life – Purgatorio, Canto I_

She woke up feeling cotton mouthed and dazed, her vision blurry and everything around her a little too bright. Compared to the darkness of Inferno, her room seemed incredibly bright…

Wait. Her…room?

She shot up in bed, her eyes adjusting to the bright Saturday morning sun and the sight of her old room, just as it had been at the age of eighteen. She looked down at her body. She was dressed in the same tank top and shorts she wore to bed that she had used when she was eighteen; she looked at her phone, and there was the time and the lock screen picture of her and Brittany.

The date was _that_ day.

She shot out of bed, staring around the room. How had she gotten here? Was everything just a dream, an elaborate thing she had thought up completely in her sleep? Was Brittany alright?

She found herself smiling at the prospect that it had all been just a crazy fantasy, but then something on her arm pricked. She winced, looking down at the large X-shaped mark on her bicep, and remembered.

_He had marked me for a reason._

She looked up at the ceiling, frowning, and whispered, "You bastard."

He had given her back only to take the satisfaction of taking her away again.

But then the mark itched again, and she felt a nudge in her mind.

_No_, she heard, deep in her brain, and she stopped, and listened. _He didn't trick you again, not this time. He has given her back to you, but in a way you never imagined. You get to live the lost years over again, with her this time._

Santana stood in her room for what felt like an age, her hand over the mark and her mind reeling with the possibilities, the events that had happened, everything at once. She was here, all her hard work had finally paid off…

But there was still one thing she had to do.

Grabbing a pair of jeans and a t shirt, she quickly changed and ran downstairs, finding her mother in the kitchen. _Just as she had been seven years ago. Drinking coffee and reading the newspaper._

"Mom!" she yelled, and she looked up at her.

"Santana, you scared me!"

"We don't have time, give me your keys."

"What for?" her mother asked, looking at her curiously as Santana strode over to her, shaking her head.

"Mom, seriously, we don't have time. Something is about to happen, I need the keys."

"Santana, _what for_?!"

"Just…" she looked over at the clock and frowned. They should have called from the hospital by now…

The phone in her pocket rang, and she froze.

"Answer it, Santana," her mother prompted, the look of worry still etched on her face. She reached slowly into her pocket and looked at the number, recognizing it from all those years ago…

_Stop, no. It's not all those years ago, anymore. It's now. You're here, you can make it right this time._

"Mom, take me to the hospital. Something's happened."


End file.
